


Watch It Burn and Rust

by kaientai



Series: Small Death and the Codeine Scene [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: "just the tip" -tendou satori 2020, F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oikawa is on to you, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Unresolved Sexual Tension, and theyre the reader's bffs, ok im kidding theres sorta more plot than porn, porn with 1mL of plot, the seijoh 4 are chaotic as always, training camp shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:53:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22180585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaientai/pseuds/kaientai
Summary: The tension between you has been there since the first time you laid eyes on him—growing stronger with each meeting. But what happens once you stretch something beyond its limits?It snaps.
Relationships: Tendou Satori/Reader
Series: Small Death and the Codeine Scene [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1598479
Comments: 19
Kudos: 517





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, Shiratorizawa doesn't have managers in this fic 'cause I'd like to think that the school staff supports them enough that they even help out during training camps -- thus, the lack of the need for a manager.

“I hate these training camps.”

Coach Mizoguchi eyes you with vague interest when you slump into the empty seat next to him by the bleachers. “If Coach Irihata catches you complaining, he’ll be very sad, you know.”

You groan, stretching out cramped limbs until you feel a satisfying crunch from your weary joints. A tired sigh follows your attempt at temporary relief. “Coach, you’re well aware that I’m more than happy to be Seijoh’s manager, but these stupid camps just make the responsibilities branch off to Shiratorizawa, too. That wasn’t in the job description, as far as I recall.” 

“Cheeky as always, aren’t you,” he simpers. “I’m afraid their coach doesn’t deem it necessary to have a manger since the members are able to fend for themselves.”

You’re unable to suppress a snort. “That makes sense. Our captain has the brain of a five year-old sometimes.”

“I’m right _here_ , (Name)-chan,” Oikawa cries out, immediately whisking himself into your direction. “What do you mean I have a brain of a five year-old? If anything, that’s Iwa-chan!”

“Don’t go framing me for your crimes, Shittykawa.” Iwaizumi’s gruff reply is accompanied by a signature smack to Oikawa’s head. It happens so often, you wonder if the setter has finally gotten used to his best friend’s mild yet constant violence. “You’re the bane of (Surname)’s existence.”

Oikawa gasps at the ace’s brazen words and turns his brown-eyed gaze to you. “Is it true? Does (Name)-chan want to quit because I’m annoying?”

His dramatized tone is met with a blatant eye-roll. “No one said anything about tendering my resignation, Bakawa.”

“Iwa-chan, you lugged her in on the insult train!” Crocodile tears slide on the captain’s cheeks. “You’re cruel!”

Iwaizumi shakes of Oikawa’s grip on his jersey, shoving the setter away with a grunt. “Get in position. You’re being an eyesore.” 

“But the game doesn’t even start until—”

“Shut up!”

From where you’re seated, you can clearly see Hanamaki and Matsukawa sniggering to themselves at the duo’s antics. Oikawa’s sudden outbursts and Iwaizumi’s damage control are practically routine now if you’re being honest. And even if the rest of the players are pains in the ass in their own ways, you’ve always came to love each batch of teenage boys you had to manage ever since you started studying in Seijoh. 

You’re a third year now and graduation is right around the corner. In sixth months’ time, Aoba Johsai’s volleyball club would be structured very differently from how it is now, as it had been in the previous years. Each transition came with farewells that needed to be bid, but you’ve known the bitter taste of parting with senpais since your first year. The only difference now is that you’re the one leaving along with four of the team’s key players.

As you zone in on your thoughts of the crunching days left before the Spring Interhigh and, by extension, graduation, your eyes sauntered over to the other side of Shiratorizawa’s court where the home team’s players are doing warm-ups for the next practice match. Your gaze latches onto a particular middle blocker whose back is turned to you. 

For some unfathomable reason whenever your eyes drift to his crimson-haired splendor, Tendou always manages to catch you staring, as if your gaze is enough to penetrate into his awareness every time you look at him. He turns around, face splintered into a grin he sends your way, but his attention is immediately robbed by their first year wing spiker with a bowl-cut. 

There are other reasons why you loathed training camps between Aoba Johsai and Shiratorizawa besides the added workload. You’ve participated in these camps since your first year, so you ought to be used to the strain of handling two teams on your own for a weekend. But a more troublesome feat is shoved on your plate when you met the rival school’s genius blocker. 

Nothing was particularly off about him during the first bout of introductions. At the time, most of you were still awkward sixteen year olds that were first timers in a joint training camp. Players exchanged names and greetings, and since you were part of Seijoh, you were also introduced. The boys of Shiratorizawa were polite and soft-spoken, but when it was a certain Tendou Satori’s turn to shake your hand, there was something about the soft but wicked glimmer in those carmine eyes that stuck with you. 

“...another manager.” It takes you awhile to realize that Coach Mizoguchi engaged you in conversation in the midst of your reverie. You blink, muttering a half-hearted apology as you ask him to repeat what he just said.

“I said we’re thinking of getting another manager,” he supplies. “Forgive me, I should have proposed it to Coach Irihata earlier so you didn’t have to juggle all the responsibilities by yourself but…”

“Your most trusted manager is graduating and it just dawned on you that you’re going to have to find a replacement soon?” you continue for him.

He nods, scratching the back of his neck with a sigh. “There are a lot of girls in Aoba Johsai that would be willing to take the position, but I’m quite concerned about their intentions.”

You immediately catch his drift. Everyone knows that Oikawa’s charm is a double-edged sword, resulting in the unwarranted resumes piling up in Coach Irihata’s office, pleading for the coach to take them in as managers for the team; all of which have been dutifully rejected. 

“You should give them a chance, coach,” you insist. “Oikawa’s going to be leaving soon anyway. They might not be as bad as you think.”

“This is partially your fault, might I tell you.”

A pout settles on your lips. “But why?”

Mizoguchi drags a hand over his face, exhaling a heavy breath. “You’ve raised Coach Irihata’s standards for a manager way too high. I’m afraid he might not even take anyone in after you.”

“What can I say?” You grin, heart swelling at his indirect praise. “I’m practically an olympic medalist at rounding up a pack of rowdy teenage boys.”

“That you are,” he agrees.

* * *

Incidentally, when lunch time rolls by, you end up falling in line at the cafeteria behind Tendou himself.

“Oh, manager-chan, it’s you again~” His mouth curls into a placid smile. “Is it just me or did you shrink?”

You click your tongue, grabbing a tray from the pile at the edge of the counter. “You just grew taller, Tendou-san.”

He hums at your formality, brows arched. “Always so polite, manager-chan. That’s what I like about you.”

“I’m glad that a typical human reaction caters to your interests.”

“Oh?” His eyes crinkle at the edges at your brazen afterthought. “So you _can_ be a wise-ass sometimes.”

When the man overseeing the teams’ meals gives him his portion, Tendou makes it a point to sneer at you one last time before heading over to a table occupied by Ushijima and Semi. You think nothing of the bizarre exchange when you slide into a spot claimed by two of your friends.

“Is it just me or is Tendou warming up to you every year?” Hanamaki surmises, timed with the snap of your chopsticks.

A frown graces your lips, brows creasing at his words. “What are you talking about?”

He shrugs. “I mean, compared to the other guys in Shiratorizawa, he seems pretty invested in our beloved manager.”

“I don’t like him,” Matsukawa grumbles with a mouthful of vegetables lodged in his cheek. 

Hanamaki snickers as he gives his shoulder a few pats. “As a middle blocker, you’re probably just feeling inferior to him, my friend.”

“What does my being a middle blocker have to do with it?” He frowns, swallowing his food. 

“Uh, maybe it’s ‘cause the enemy middle blocker had more guts to make a move on (Name)-chan than you, Mattsun,” Oikawa implores as he dropped his lunch tray next to yours. 

Matsukawa rolls his eyes. “Funny. We all know that (Surname) is like a sister to us” 

“Don’t worry, man, I’m with you on this one,” Hanamaki insists as he snatches one of Matsukawa’s wagyu cubes, stuffing it into his mouth before his friend can notice. “That guy has the crazy eyes.”

“Crazy eyes?” you echo.

Hanamaki nods gingerly and Matsukawa sighs, obviously familiar with the farfetched concept. “The fundamental rule to the crazy eyes is that you shouldn’t date an otherwise attractive person if they have said crazy eyes. I told Mattsun that the girl he dated once in junior high had them and he wouldn’t believe me.”

“Just because she turned out to be a closet yandere doesn’t mean that crazy eyes theory is true.” Matsukawa lifts his shoulders in a nonchalant gesture. 

Oikawa hums beside you, chewing his lunch thoughtfully. “You have to admit that Guess Monster-chan _does_ have that little deranged look on his face whenever his guess blocks are right. Iwa-chan hates it when his spikes are predicted by him.” 

The captain’s input garners an ‘I-told-you-so’ expression from Hanamaki to which Matsukawa retaliates by rolling his eyes a second time.

When Iwaizumi settles in his seat, barking at Oikawa for cutting him in line, the topic of a crazy-eyed middle blocker is more or less deserted. The boys are talking about a TV show that aired last night but their discussion became muted in your ears when you find your gaze wandering back to the table at the far end of the room. 

Tendou’s bouffant hair sticks out like a sore thumb amidst the otherwise conventional hairstyles and colors of those seated around him. Just how much hair gel did he have to use to get it to look like that? This time, he’s too engrossed in conversation with Semi to notice your swift glances. But before you could study him a little more intently, the sound of a fist colliding on the table rouses you from your trance.

“If Tendou tries anything funny, I’ll skin him alive, (Surname).” The threat to Iwaizumi’s words didn’t sound empty, but you know that the ace isn’t that much of a barbarian to actually carry it out. Your head cranes to the side at his unbridled display of irritation. Ah, maybe the others filled him in on Tendou’s prominent advances while you were busy ogling said middle blocker.

_Oh, man._

Oikawa jeers at him. “Iwa-chan, you’re only that riled up ‘cause he shuts you down so often, it’s embarrassing.”

The insult is met with a jab to the setter’s side, eliciting a pained yelp from Oikawa. Matsukawa and Hanamaki snicker to themselves at yet another display of idiocy courtesy of their captain and vice captain. You shake your head, finishing the rest of your meal with no leftovers to spare since you’re going to need the energy. The first day of camp is always the most brutal after all.

* * *

Every year, each practice match between the two powerhouse schools in Miyagi never ceases to amaze you. All the versions of each team cultivated over years’ worth of training had their own redeeming qualities—both for Seijoh and Shiratorizawa alike. But this was probably one of the best plays you’ve seen in all the training camps you’ve supervised. 

The intensity in the air crackled like a smoldering flame. You feel like if you so much as blink, you’ll miss something important. The game is at its fifth set, and while it surely isn’t anyone’s first time playing a five-setter—save for the first years—neither team is giving their opponent any leeway for victory. Both contenders are baring their fangs at the other, knowing full well that even if this is just a practice match, so much more is on the line. 

But of course, this rivalry is all fun and games until someone gets a nasty injury, which is exactly what happens when Shiratorizawa secures their match-point. 

“You may have broken some of my fingers, but the point’s still ours, ace~” Tendou’s jeering laughter mingles with the sound of the whistle tweeting for a timeout. 

You immediately rush to his side along with the coaches present to check the severity of his injury. Spots of blood are seeping through the bandages he always wraps around his slender fingers, and a frown settles on your face at the way his right pinky twitches when you brush it. You can hear Iwaizumi scoffing from the other side of the net, shortly followed by Oikawa’s teasing voice. 

“Let’s get you to the infirmary,” you say, tugging on his other wrist lightly. “Don’t move your fingers. The swelling might get worse.” 

“Manager-chan, so eager to get me alone.” He chuckles tauntingly as you lead him out of the gym. The doors click loudly back in place and the sound bounces across the empty hallway. You walk brusquely with Tendou in tow, and it takes you a moment to realize that you have no idea where Shiratorizawa’s infirmary is.

When you cast Tendou a timid stare, about to ask him to show you the way, he simply grins at you. “The school nurse has her day-off on weekends. You’re going to have to treat me, yourself.”

“ _What_?” 

Injuries aren’t a rare occurrence in these camps, which is why the coaches reminded you to pack a first aid kit in case the hosting school’s infirmary isn’t operational You didn’t expect that you actually had to use the aforementioned first aid kit to treat Tendou, of all people. 

Though you’re appalled with the idea of having to sit through his hawk-like stare as you treated him, you don’t really have much of a choice. Clicking your tongue, you grab ahold of his wrist to veer yourself up to the second floor, where Seijoh’s rooms are located. Once you reach the classroom at the end of the hall, you pull him inside and slammed it shut.

“That desperate, aren’t you?” he teases. 

“Shut up and take a seat,” you tell him before crouching down to retrieve the kit that’s sitting idly beside your rolled up futon by the chalkboard. As you make your way to set it on the desk Tendou decided to occupy, he makes a sound of realization. 

“This where you sleep, manager-chan?” 

Your brow hefts at his curiosity, but you grunt in affirmation, regardless. You pull out the seat from the neighboring desk, dragging it closer so you could work on his injury. The gaze he fixes on you is rather expectant as he patiently keeps his fingers immobilized on the desk. At least he isn’t making things difficult for you aside from the occasional off-handed comment. 

Tendou is surprisingly quiet as you unwrap the sullied bandages, save for the small hiss that escapes him when his injury meets the cool air of the classroom. Setting the bandages on top of the desk, you carefully examine his digits and, as you thought, there’s an uneven laceration on his pinky. Flecks of dried blood stick to his skin, but the wound seems to have closed up already, leaving a purpling bruise and a little swelling in its wake. 

“Can you move it?” you ask, your voice as gentle as the way your fingers grasp his calloused hand. 

He hums, flexing all five of his fingers with no difficulty. “The pinky hurts like a bitch though.” 

“Figures.” 

Given that Tendou can still move the injured finger, you manage to rule out the possibility of any broken phalanges, which eases the tension that you hadn’t known was creeping in your posture. You crack open the first aid kid, plucking a few swabs of cotton and a bottle of disinfectant. A sharp scent cuts through the air, making you wrinkle your nose, but once it scatters, you’re suddenly aware of how Tendou smells like sweat and waning aftershave. You hadn’t noticed earlier, since you’re too occupied with the state of his fingers, but this is quite different from the scent that Seijoh’s four idiots usually carried after a difficult match. 

You’d never admit to it, but he smells...good. 

“You’re fumbling,” Tendou points out with a flare of mischief in his tone. 

“You’re imagining things,” you rebut as you force your hands to stop quaking under his gaze. 

Once you’ve cleaned his fingers up, you dispose of the cotton balls next to his bandages. The next step is to splint his fingers to hasten the healing process. With a sigh, you tear open a pack of thick popsicle sticks, retrieving one to carefully place it underneath Tendou’s fingers. 

You can feel the weight of his stare as you rummage around the kit for some fresh bandages, and it takes a copious amount of willpower just to keep up the indifferent expression on your face. When you finally find it, you tape up his pinky and index finger together with the splint to guarantee that he won’t get any ideas of moving them at all.

“Do your boys get a lot of injuries, too?” He chuckles once you’re done patching him up, examining your handiwork with awe. “You seem to know what you’re doing, manager-chan~”

“It’s just basic first aid,” you say, getting up to throw away his old bandages and thecotton in the bin. “I couldn’t do shit when Oikawa got that really bad knee injury.”

His brows shot up to his hairline. “Oh? So that’s why he always wears unmatching knee pads. Taichi and I bet on the reason behind it. Guess I lost then.” 

A surprised gasp escapes you when you decide to humor him as you tidy up. “The Guess Monster, losing in a bet?” 

Tendou laughs airily. “You’re a lot more fun when you’re not around those four, huh?” 

Just as you’re about to put the first aid kit back where you found it, you pause, sparing him an inquisitive look. But before you could even ask him the question lodged between your teeth, Tendou is already halfway towards the door, waving the hand you just bandaged in farewell. 

“Oi!” you stomp over to tug him by the elbow. “We’re not done yet! Don’t go swinging it around either. It won’t heal if you do that! And—”

Tendou cuts you off with his haughty laughter. “I know the protocol for this so don’t sweat it, manager-chan. Fuss about me more and I’ll start to think that you actually like tending to my wounds.”

Your grip on him falters, making you realize how tightly you’ve grasped him. An embarrassed squeak makes its way past your lips as you scoot a few feet away from him, but your timidness only serves to fuel Tendou’s already burning ego when the curve of his condescending grin scales even wider. 

“Thanks for the fix, manager-chan,” he says before turning his back to you. “I should get injured more often.”

You cross your arms over your chest, frowning. “And why’s that?”

He turns his head enough to grant you a glimpse of half of an outstretched grin. “So I don’t have to make excuses to get you alone, of course.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sike! Of course I'ma post the second part on the same day.

On the second night of the training camp, you find your boys staying up past their bed time.

“What _exactly_ are you doing?” 

Oikawa perks up at the sound of your voice. “Oh, (Name)-chan, you’re just in time! Hey, Mattsun give her a deck.”

“We’re already playing, idiot,” Matsukawa sighs as he swats Hanamaki’s fingers away. “Makki, that’s cheating. Quit ruining the integrity of the game” 

“UNO!” Iwaizumi screeches, slamming down one of his cards on top of the messy pile that’s situated in the middle of all of Seijoh’s players, who are seated together in a circle. 

Kindaichi, who’s sitting to the vice captain’s right lets out a frustrated groan as he ruefully draws four cards from the tidier stack. “Iwaizumi-san, why do you have so many draw four cards? That’s the third time you’ve laid divine punishment on me.” 

“Just pray you’ll get a reverse card so you can get your revenge.” Iwaizumi shrugs. 

To Iwaizumi’s left, Oikawa shrieks, “Hell no! If you reverse the flow, Iwa-chan’s going to prematurely put me in my grave. We’ve already lost today’s match, so could you please let me have this victory?” 

Yahaba frowns at their captain’s sentiment. “Oikawa-san, how does your victory in an UNO game compensate for our team’s loss in a practice match?”

Hanamaki snickers. “Gives him a reason to continue wallowing in his pride, I bet.”

“Don’t ignore me like I’m not here, you jackasses,” you interject, raising the volume of your voice. 

All their heads turn to you, surprised eyes meeting your arbitrary glare. 

“It’s lights out,” you deadpan. “You’re going to do those hellish reps first thing tomorrow. You guys ought to get some sleep.” 

Oikawa sticks his tongue out in spite. “Make us.”

You roll your eyes, pretending to invest yourself in the state of your nails. “I think I’m in a mood to tell the cafeteria staff to cut off your protein for the rest of the camp. You guys are a bunch of meat heads as is, anyway.” 

Matsukawa’s eyes narrow into slits. “You wouldn’t.”

“You _know_ I would.” 

Iwaizumi is the first to give in, tossing the one card he has left on his person into the pile. He hauls himself onto his feet and walks over to the corner to presumably grab a futon. “The guy who has most cards cleans up,” he announces placidly.

Kindaichi lets out a frustrated groan as the rest of the boys dump their own cards onto his hands. 

It takes less than three minutes for them to settle themselves under the comfort of their futons, obviously taking your threat to take away their meat privileges at face value. 

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” You pitch in a teasing smile.

“You’re a demon, (Name)-chan,” Oikawa huffs, turning his back to you.

“Good night, you ingrates.” With that, you conclude your rounds for the night. 

The hallway on the second floor is more or less deserted. A tired sigh makes its way past your lips as you twist your neck around to ease a few strained muscles. You pad silently to the end of the hall where your room is, sparing a glance at the high windows of the coaches’ room. Given that the lights are switched off, their meeting with Washijou seems that it’s yet to be adjourned. 

You have half the mind to look for them to inform that the boys are all tucked in already, but you’d rather not get lost in the massive grounds of Shiratorizawa in the middle of the night. The oncoming fatigue from running around campus doing several errands is beginning to seep into your bones, too. 

You stifle a yawn as you slide the door to your room open, but it’s interrupted halfway when you see Tendou sitting behind a desk in the far corner, nose buried in the pages of what seems to be this week’s issue of Shounen Jump.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you hiss, shutting the door behind you in case someone walks by.

Upon hearing your voice, he sets down the magazine, grinning at your apprehension. “Can’t I pay you visits when I feel like it, manager-chan?” 

“No?” you state in a matter-of-fact tone that you hope is enough to shoo him away. 

It isn’t.

Tendou rises from his seat and you notice that he traded his training clothes for a pair of sweats and a white crew neck with Shiratorizawa’s crest embroidered on the chest pocket. Your manager instincts kick in for a moment, and your eyes went to the hand you just patched up yesterday. Tendou isn't wearing the bandages nor the splint anymore. 

The way his sandals scraped against the floor as he makes his way towards you, snaps you out of your trance—the smile he dons too encroaching for comfort. 

Instinctively, you back away, intent with putting as much distance between you as possible. But each step you took backward, he met with another step forward. Your futile effort is realized once your back hits the door. Gulping, you stand your ground, putting on the most convincing pissed off expression you could muster in an attempt at masking the agitation that crawled beneath your skin. 

When Tendou manages to minimize the space that separates you, he braces both of his hands on the walls on either side of your head, effectively trapping you. His lips are curled into another one of his eye-crinkling smiles again, and from the way his gaze bore into your very soul, you couldn’t help but blurt out—

“Is creepy stalker your default personality?” 

You expect that too-confident smirk to falter, for his perpetually provocative mask to chip away as he burst out laughing at such an accusation. You could laugh this off like it’s just one of his usual games, and you could kick him out of your room so you could get a much needed good night’s sleep. But instead of the whimsical reaction you’d hoped for, his eyes droop half-lidded at your words, tongue swiping his bottom lip. 

“And if it is?” 

Your lip quivers and you don’t know if it’s from anticipation or fear or both. Tendou tilts his chin up in a gesture of dominance, his teasing smile turning feral. He leans close enough until you can feel his breath fanning the shell of your ear.

“Who would have thought that Seijoh’s tough manager could look so vulnerable?” The sound of his voice so achingly close sends a shiver skidding across your spine and you’re yet to decide if the sensation is pleasant or not. You open your mouth at a desperate attempt to tell him to stop, but the plea evaporates from your tongue when one of his arms snake around your waist to pull you flush against his slim frame. 

Taking advantage of your stunned silence, Tendou touches your forehead with a single finger from his free hand, dragging it down the bridge of your nose and onto the swell of your lips. As you forcefully tame the thundering sensation in your ribcage, you actively try to convince yourself that there is absolutely _nothing_ erotic about the way he gently scraped the blunt of his nail on the bottom line of your mouth. 

He slots himself in between your thighs with ease, and the fact that you just let him do as he pleases leaves a bitter taste on your tongue. The hand that he dragged across your skin assumes its previous position braced on the wall, and you find yourself hopelessly imprisoned under his carmine-hued stare. 

“You’re being pretty quiet, aren’t you manager-chan?” He laughs flippantly,

Tendou leans even closer, burying his face on the crook of your neck. Each breath from him is hot against your skin, eliciting a squeak from you as you placed your hands on his chest at a reluctant attempt to push him away. But for some reason, you couldn’t find the strength to do so, merely settling with fisting the cotton material in your fingers as you grit your teeth in frustration.

“I don’t remember you being this forward, Tendou-san,” you half-joke, following it up with a laugh that betrays just how rattled you are.

You refuse to meet his eyes when his head rises to face you, knowing full well that you’ll be entranced with them should you stare at this close a distance. Tendou has already put you under his spell, slowly planting seeds of interest within you for three years now. The last thing you need is a catalyst that will finally make you succumb to those intense and borderline sultry glances he sent your way in the short spans of time you’ve spent with him. 

His fingers probe your chin, forcing you to look up at him. Those eyes of his almost pierce into your very being, and you’d be lying if you said you don’t find those blood red pools beautiful.

“Hm, I wonder,” he pauses, mulling over his words with a dangerous glint in his eye. “Why is manager-chan not throwing a fit? Eita-kun has always told me I’ve got no sense of personal space.”

“He’s right, I’m afraid,” you tell him dryly. “Also, I have a name, you know?”

“I know. But manager-chan just has the riiight ring to it.” A chuckle resonates somewhere low in his chest as he tucks in a tuft of hair behind your ear. “The idea of being balls deep inside a rival school’s manager spurs me on more than you know.” 

Ah, there it is. His proclamation of love. 

“Why now?” you question softly. 

Tendou’s brow quirks. “Would you rather I ravished you earlier, then? Where’s the fun in that?”

Thinking about it now, you knew. You knew this was coming from a mile away. Three years' worth of stolen glances and a tension so thick it could suffocate—all of it lead to this moment. 

Your breath hitches in your throat when his lithe arms wrap themselves around your waist, tugging your hips flush against his own. He gazes at you with a desire you almost mistake for madness.

The descent of his lips on your own is the most agonizing five seconds of your life. You can see him, feel him ghosting the crescent of his mouth over yours, only separated by a hair’s breadth. Below the perpetually sleepy look in his eyes is a flame that’s licking your own hunger into life. You trade your grip on his sweater to lock your fingers at the nape of his neck, closing your eyes as you beg whatever god is watching for forgiveness.

“My, manager-chan. You're getting quite into this, aren't you?” Tendou chuckles. 

"Shut up," you grumble, heat creeping from the base of your neck. "Just shut up and do what you have to do." 

His lower lip juts into a pout. "Eh? You're making it sound like you're doing this against your will. That's mean, manager-chan." You can feel his slender fingers crawling up your shirt—his icy touch making a delicious shiver skidding up the length of your spine. 

"Look at me," Tendou says, and even if you refused his command, you still find yourself lost in the deep red of his gaze. "Look me in the eye and tell me you don't feel a thing; that you don't want this as badly as I do." 

The sultry baritone of his voice makes your blood sizzle in your veins, making you bite the inside of your cheek in sheer anticipation. He's gazing at you under half-lidded eyes with a patience that looks like it's about to snap any moment now. But five heartbeats pass, and he _still_ won't come in for the kill. 

He could've done as he pleased with you already—could've ravaged you, as he said, instead of beating around the bush like this. But Tendou isn't a monster that took whatever he desired. That's all the confirmation you need when you decide to say:

"I want this."

Tendou lets out a sound that sounds like a laugh and a sigh in the same breath. And you're yet to know that it's the last semblance of anything human you're going to hear from him until he's done with you. 

Once he's secured the green light, however, Tendou doesn't waste any time. He slants his lips on top of yours without much preamble, pinning your arms against the wall as he licks into every crevice in your mouth. You match his rhythm almost perfectly, sliding your tongue against his in a languid pace as he grinds himself in earnest against the friction of your track pants. Tendou surrenders his hold on one of your arms so he can creep his free hand further up your shirt. With skillful fingers, he manages to undo the hooks of your bra in one try, and you make a mental note to ask about that a little later. 

He purposely breaks your union for a moment to help you out of the clothing that's obstructing his view of your body, and you're all too willing to comply. You don't think, don't want to scrutinize the situation or parse through a catalog of end results. You just want him to unravel the coiling heat in your stomach and nothing else. 

"Beautiful," he murmurs before latching his mouth on the sensitive skin of your neck, just above the irregular thrum of your pulse. You get to work, too—pulling down the straps of your bra to discard it to the floor. Your breasts press against Tendou's clothed chest as he marks you with his teeth. A soft moan reverberates in the back of your throat as you tug on his stiff hair, making sure his scalp burns at your aggressiveness. You manage to garner the reaction you want when he growls against your skin. 

The middle blocker eventually disconnects from your neck to admire his own work—a dark red splotch that will definitely be seen if you don't wear any concealer. But keeping your escapade a secret is the last thing on your mind when you press your mouth against his. This one's far messier than the first; all teeth and tongue and carnal desire. Your fingers begin working on the strings of his sweats and he's more than willing to strip himself off them so you could palm his erection through plain black boxer briefs. He's impeccably hard, that much you can tell between the barrier of fabric between his throbbing cock and your hand. Tendou lets out a broken moan when your fingers give him a tender squeeze. 

You pull away from his hungry lips as you sink onto your knees. Tendou blinks for a moment, taken by surprise by your eagerness, but he doesn't voice out any complaints once you pull his boxers down and his hardness strains against his firm stomach. You gaze at his engorged cock in awe before giving him little kitty licks to spite him. 

"If you keep doing that, I swear you'll regret it," he threatens, but his voice sounds hoarse as he does. The gleam in his eye almost turns feral once you hollow your cheeks to accommodate him in the warmth of your mouth. 

Tendou groans in delight as he pulls his sweater over his head, tossing it to the side without care. His hands then tangle themselves in your hair once you've established a regular pace, bobbing your head up and down without breaking eye-contact. His mouth is curled into that same, sleazy smile he always wears on regular days, as if he isn't being sucked off by a rival team's manager at the moment. He looks so composed that it _infuriates_ you. 

You decide to take things up a notch, slathering more saliva onto his cock until you can feel the tip poking the back of your throat. Now, you don't have the best gag reflex, but you do know how to regulate your breaths so that you don't end up a sputtering mess underneath him. To your elation, Tendou lets out a choked up noise once you take him in deeper. A manic grin spreads across his lips and the way that look alone sends a shock of pleasure right into the apex of your thighs is criminal.

"Had I known that you've got that good of a mouth on you... I never would've waited so long." He hisses through gritted teeth as he fists your hair in his hands. 

Your hands seek purchase on his toned thighs, his muscles rippling under your fingertips as you slowly build him up for release. The fabric of your panties feel as if it's slick with your essence, and you nearly squirm in anticipation as you wonder how Tendou's cock would feel once he buries it deep into your core. The mere idea has you moaning around his shaft as tears race down your cheeks. 

"You look so pretty with your mouth wrapped around my dick, manager-chan," he sighs as he lets go of your hair to swipe his thumbs beneath your eyes. "Come on, that's enough." 

Tendou's mouth bows into a crooked smile once you get back on your feet, restless hands wasting no time as he hooks his fingers on the waistband of your track pants. For a moment, his ministrations falter and he meets your eyes to silently secure your permission. For some reason, his consideration makes your heart swell. But you aren't able to pay the feeling any mind because once Tendou rids you of the rest of your clothing, the first thing he does is tease your sopping entrance with the pads of his fingers.

"Fuck." His voice sounds deliciously breathless as he lathers his fingers in your juices. "You're _this_ wet from sucking me off? You're an even bigger pervert than I made you out to be."

"What's it to you?" you challenge, wrapping your arms around his shoulders once more to bring him closer.

You take his earlobe in between your teeth and Tendou chuckles at the way you softly nip at his skin. In retaliation, Tendou sheathes two fingers into the tight heat of your cunt without warning, making you cry out in surprise. You throw him a dirty look that immediately melts into something headier as he slowly, lazily intrudes your body like he was born to do so. 

"Manager-chan, you know I'll do my best to shut you up every time you try to be a smart-ass, no?" He smiles before taking his fingers out of your wetness. Then, Tendou manhandles you so that your back is facing him. He presses his chest against you, forcing you to lean forward and brace your hands against the wall before you. The position you're in makes you feel so bare, so exposed. 

And you absolutely _love_ it.

Tendou lets out another soft laugh; one hand, he uses to massage your left breast, while he moves to trace lazy circles around your throbbing clit. The sound that forces its way out of your throat is unintelligible, and you wonder just how he was able to reduce you to such a pitiful state—Aoba Johsai's reliable manager, wrapped around the fingers of Shiratorizawa's Guess Monster.

"(Name)-chan, you in there?"

The sound of Oikawa's voice outside is enough to make your body go rigid. From the way Tendou suddenly halts his ministrations, you can tell that he's just as stunned as you are. Whipping your head behind you, you gaze at him with a question in your eyes: _What the fuck do we do?_

Instead of offering a solution, however, Tendou's lips only curve into a wicked smile as he guides his still hard cockhead at the slick between your thighs. To your horror, he begins grinding against your entrance, and you have to bite your lip to prevent any weird noises from spilling from your mouth. 

"(Name)-chan?"

"What is it, Oikawa?" you manage with a high-pitched voice that you hope he won't comment on. Tendou lets out an airy laugh before moving your hair to one side so he can nip at your neck to throw your mind into a haze. 

"Ow, Mad Dog-chan, quit it. Ah, Kyoutani was asking for some water. Do you have some in there?" 

Instinctively, your gaze flickers to the water bottles lined up in the other end of the classroom. You made sure to empty them out before cleaning, so you aren't exactly lying to Oikawa when you say, "Nope! T-Try the cafeteria. They might s-still be open." 

You can hear Oikawa humming in contemplation outside, and the vague noises Kyoutani makes before he stalks off further away. But it's only one set of footsteps you hear.

"(Name)-chan, are you okay?" 

At the same time the captain asks you the question, Tendou roughly bites down on the spot he'd been teasing as he simultaneously sinks his cock into your welcoming heat. You aren't able to stifle the half-moan, half-yelp that tears its way from your lips, and you shoot the carmine-haired blocker a death glare that he only returns with a firm thrust of his hips.

"Y-Yeah—don't come in!" you warn the setter outside in advance. "I'm, uh, changing! I just s-stubbed my toe. It's okay, Oikawa." 

"Hm. Alright, if you say so." 

You aren't able to relish in the sound of Oikawa's waning footsteps because once the captain takes his leave, Tendou slams you forward. The intrusion of his cock sends painful shocks rippling across your nerves because of how agitated you are from the idea of getting caught. Tears catch in the corners of your eyes, but you don't have the heart to tell the monster behind you to slow down; not when his merciless thrusts are sending you into another realm altogether. 

"I never liked any of those boys of yours," Tendou admits, voice raspier than earlier. "They're always around you like fucking guard dogs." 

Even if he's knocking the breath from your lungs each time pile-drives the reason from your consciousness, you manage to let slip a taunting laugh. "Are you jealous, Tendou-san?"

"Oh, you sweet little thing," he coos, forcing you to tilt your head to the side so he could mesh your mouths in a hurried kiss. When he pulls away, his manic grin morphs into a gentle smile that you somehow think is more dangerous than the former. 

"You wouldn't like to see me when I'm jealous." 

* * *

"Morning, (Surname)—whoa," Matsukawa interrupts himself before observing you a little closer. "You look like roadkill. Didn't you get any sleep last night?" 

The other boys sitting on your shared table murmur in agreement. You shake your head in lieu of a vocal answer as you slide yourself next to Hanamaki. Thankfully, they don't probe you for questions as to why you didn't show up during the morning exercises. But Oikawa, who's sitting right across from you, has his hazel eyes fixated on the vague spot where you spent the entire morning trying to cover up a bruise that you'd never let anyone know about. _Fuck_. Can he see through the concealer? 

Whatever conclusions the too-observant-for-his-own-good captain may have drawn from your disheveled state, he doesn't voice out any of them. Instead, he teases Iwaizumi about the fact that he tried to race Ushijima around the Shiratorizawa oval and failed. The ace's violent reaction is enough to draw the other three's attention away from you, and with that, you're able to eat your breakfast in peace.

As the boys file out of the cafeteria for today's practice matches, you decidedly offer your help to the cafeteria staff in tidying up—not quite ready to face a certain, red-headed middle blocker again just yet. 

That's until that certain, red-headed middle blocker takes matters into his own hands and approaches you, himself.

"Good morning, Fujioka-san!" Tendou greets the middle-aged woman you were helping clean the tables. "Manager-chan's doing a good job, huh?"

Fujioka spares him a warm smile. "You're right on that one, isn't he, (Surname)-chan?"

"H-Huh?" You blink out the confusion in your eyes. "Uh, yeah. It's nothing, really."

"Oh, give yourself more credit, dear," she insists. "Just because you don't have to help around in the kitchen, doesn't mean your efforts should go unnoticed. She's taking care of so many teenage boys. Right, Tendou-kun?" 

You can feel Tendou's fingers skimming across your bare thighs, making the events that transpired last night burn through the back of your mind. The table in front of you thankfully manages to shield the blocker's antics from Fujioka's view. Damn it. You just had to wear shorts today, huh?

"Yup! Manager-chan surely takes good care of us athletes," Tendou agrees with glee, as if he isn't giving your ass a firm squeeze. 

"I'll leave the two of you be now," Fujioka bows as she gathers the tray of dirty dishes in her hands. "I'll give these to the dishwashers. Run along now, (Surname)-chan. You've helped out enough."

Before you can even utter a single word in protest, the older woman is already striding off to the back kitchen, leaving you completely under Tendou's mercy. 

"Say, manager-chan," he begins, already directing himself to the exit, "practice matches don't start for another half-hour. And my dorm room's pret-ty close, if you know what I'm saying."

The nuances of what he's trying to imply hit you in a split second, and you ought to be mortified by them. But instead of disgust, all you feel is the same, rippling anticipation that's churning in the bottom of your stomach. Your thighs still hurt. Your insides still feel like mush. You have absolutely _no_ reason to go at it a second time with this guy. 

Still, you decided to pull Tendou closer by the shirt. 

"This is the _last_ time," you hiss in his ear.

But the same, sleazy grin he puts up tells you he knows that neither of you believed a single word you just said. 

"Of course," he plays along, chuckling to himself as the double doors to the cafeteria closed behind the both of you. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I purposely cut the Good Stuff off because I wanted to mess with everyone :3 Also posted on my [nsfw sideblog](http://kinkyuus.tumblr.com) if you guys still want to support me despite that.


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